


The Cat at the Opera Door

by TheDiamondSword400



Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Friendship, Gus is a good cat, How Is That Not a Tag Already?!, Pre-Canon, The phantom of the opera needs a hug, some French words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:06:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29558844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDiamondSword400/pseuds/TheDiamondSword400
Summary: Erik's sanctuary is safe but ever so lonely. But that is about to change.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	The Cat at the Opera Door

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to for Need_To_Comment_Rising bataing this and for helping with the French translations! <3

Erik's hands flew across the organ's keys, occasionally turning to scrawl notes across a roll of parchment. This multi-tasking gave the music echoing off the stone walls an enthralling rise and fall, not unlike the tides. A swelling melody, masterfully played, that no one would ever hear.

Anything to distract him from his thoughts.

His world had always been one of torment and pain, noises loud and strident and without the sculpted beauty of music. It was only here, in this secret place Madame Giry had brought him to, that he had the peace to truly enjoy the divinity of song.

But it was so terribly lonely.

The good Madame was ever busy, training the opera's dancers and looking after the little ones in her care, which included her own little one.

The music took on a gentler quality as this thought passed through his mind.

He had been resentful at first, blaming the fact that the one who had saved him from his life of torment should abandon him so on what he assumed was a spoiled brat not unlike those who had once thrown things at him in his cage.

He had slipped up into the opera house through the many passages he had discovered during his time here, into the dormitories where Madame Giry reigned supreme. He had intended to lay eyes upon the brat who had caused himself such strife and plot revenge.

Instead he had been discovered by the imp he had intended to spy on, a little golden haired thing that had found upon him as easily as a cat finds it's pray and wide eyes that took up most of her tiny face.

Eyes without judgment.

He had spun a tale, a quick fabrication to discourage her from alerting the authorities. He was the Opera Ghost, he saw all and went anywhere that was connected to the Opera House, which included the Ballet Dormitories.

She had fallen for it immediately and hadn't questioned when he had taken advantage of a momentary distraction to escape. Just taking it as confirmation that she had spoken to a ghost.

Madame Giry had come down to confront him over this afterwards, scolding him for being so reckless and taking such a risk. She had surprisingly not been upset about him lying to her daughter. The guise of The Fantôme de l'Opéra would be useful to him, she believed, providing him ease of movement. She had also presented him with his first ever gift.

A crude wreath.

Apparently Little Meg Giry had decided that it was only proper to decorate the Opera as one would a headstone. Her child mind drawing some correlation between him being a 'Ghost' in the Opera House and graves and the need to decorate them that he did not quite understand despite Madame Giry's explanation.

He glanced towards the crudely misshapen decoration and smiled to himself. No, he would not avenge himself upon the naive little cherub. Any ill will he had felt towards her had been thoroughly snuffed out.

But it remained so very lonely down in his secret sanctuary, nothing but his music to drown out the silence and painful memories to serve as companions.

Gus trotted leisurely down the passage.

He loved his home, the Opera House was always full of activity with rehearsals underway or productions being done. And there was always new things to explore, some forgotten hallway or hidden corner tucked away. It was quite exhilarating. It was like another world under the theater as well, all stone walls and murky water which never failed to spark his feline interest.

He paused upon a narrow ledge, ears twitching in surprise. That was music! It was faint but unmistakable. Someone was playing music down here! And he was pretty sure it wasn't coming from another cat. That was the distinct sound of an organ if he wasn't mistaken. He wouldn't put it past a Jellicle to make such an instrument in the appropriate size. But he wondered down here so often he found it quite hard to believe he hadn't crossed paths with this hypothetical feline.

Curiosity piqued, Gus followed the song echoing off the walls deeper and deeper. Deeper then he had ever gone, caves widening and air chillier. The music, that masterful melody, grew louder as he drew closer.

Until Gus came upon a most curious site.

Candles and torches lined the walls and water side in abundance as if marking the paths leading to what he could only describe as a human sized den. The space looked most like the homes of the cats who lived in the junkyard, bedding and objects of interest arranged purely to the owner's preferences and no care towards “what others might think” as humans usually did. Which was a truly baffling mindset.

His eyes caught a bit of movement and he glanced towards it sharply. Then tilted his head in interest.

A most curious figure stood within the human den, fingers flying across the keys of an organ of most grandiose proportions. This was the one making that exquisite music, music that appealed greatly to his Jellicle Nature.

Truth be told, it's maker appealed to his Jellicle Nature as well.

The human cut quite the dramatic figure with his loose white shirt with it's billowing sleeves, black pants and boots. And that mask. That white mask covering half his face quite delighted the feline's particular tastes.

The music. The drama. The den. Everlasting, this human was almost Jellicle! He would be remiss if he did not introduce himself to such a charming personage.

Erik was in the middle of a cadenza when a cat jumped into his lap. He froze in place and stared in shock at the unexpected intruder. The cat for it's part just nonchalantly curled up on his thigh, quite indifferent to the fact it had just turned the man's world on it's side.

How did the cat get here?

How did it find this place?

How did it find him?

Madame Giry had always promised him the way she took to his lair was quite secret and she always took great care not to be followed. But if a cat could do it, why not a person? A person with whips and chains determined to drag him out of his peaceful dark.

He thought all the paths he had discovered during his time here were known only to him, but what if that wasn't true?

_What if-!_

Erik jumped as a loud discordant note tore him from his panicked thoughts and brought him back to the present. He looked down to find the cat staring back at him, one paw resting atop a white key of his organ. The cat struck the key again, never taking it's green-gold eyes off the man and starting to look impatient.

“ _De quoi s'agit-il?"_ Erik drawled, quirking a dark brow at the cat “Do you wish me to play for you, my little interloper?”

The cat struck two of the keys in response and tilted it's head as it continued to stare up at him.   
He smiled shyly at this. It might be silly to read so much into the behavior of a cat but he was deeply touched. Never before had anyone shown any interest in his music. Regardless of species, it was a heart warming sentiment.

He returned his attention to his organ and began to play again. He played a slower melody then he had been before, nervous about scaring the little cat away with loud noises. The little cat curled up in his lap, settling in more comfortably. Erik's left hand lowered after a while to the cat's head, gently stroking and sketching at the feline's ears.

A peaceful silence settled over the lair. Gus's soft purrs mingling with the music of the forgotten man.

Carding his fingers slowly through the cat's soft fur as he played, Erik hardly noticed the weight of his ever present loneliness lifting just the slightest degree. The heavy fortress around his heart opened it's gates just a little.

To admit the cat at the theater door.

**Author's Note:**

> Translation: De quoi s'agit-il? - What is this?
> 
> Erik is about late teens-early 20s in this.  
> Meg is between 7-12 years old  
> Gus is a young adult.   
> I envision Erik as being early-mid 30s and Meg at around 18-21 in the play and wanted to line up the 'canons' just in case i ever decide to do more with this.


End file.
